


Lusus Naturae

by complacentCatalyst



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crocker Corp., i have a thing for mute dave i'm sorry, mute!dave, pretty much all the characters will be included eventually, this will probably be discontinued bc i have no inspiration for it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/complacentCatalyst/pseuds/complacentCatalyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trolls live on Earth, their hives contained in areas in each city called "clusters." Gamzee is avoiding his duty as a moirail to Karkat, so John steps in. Dave is moving to D.C. with his bro. Sollux and Eridan discover a dangerous secret at Crocker Corp. Things aren't as bad as they seem: they're worse.</p><p>EDIT: Discontinued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John and Moiraillegiance

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this will get better as I continue adding more chapters; I tend to get excited and write a whole lot without proofreading very much. Enjoy!

Your name is John Egbert, and you're too young to die. You've put too much effort into this game to lose it all now. You've fought too many battles and reached too many new levels; contrarily your potential has just begun to shine.

So when you see a message of "great going egbert" from Dave, you sigh heavily and lean back in your computer chair while typing a simple "shut up dave."

The boss was too strong for your group and you forgot that you're not that great at MMOs. Luckily, Rose's avatar is a necromancer so she's able to send you a resurrection offer. As you click "ACCEPT," a fourth player trots up from behind Jade's arcane mage. You've seen it before: a rogue whose player likes to type in all caps.

"YOU'RE SERIOUSLY LOSING ALREADY?" pops up in the chat window. Karkat likes to bother your group a lot. For the most part you tolerate it, but sometimes Jade has to keep him in line. Dave types "god no" and Jade's avatar sighs in a comically over-exaggerated manner. Normally you wouldn't mind his commentary, but it's a little humiliating right after he saw your pixellated corpse. You won't live this down for a while. Karkat has some kind of inferiority complex and he copes with it by taking people down – at least, that's what you believe. He could just be a jerk.

You hunch forward to type a rather slow reply to him. "aren't you too high level to be here anyway?"

"GOING THROUGH OLD USELESS QUESTS" is his snappy reply. Jade takes over the conversation by asking for help on the ones they share, and suddenly Karkat is multitasking because you receive a private message from him. It isn't rare or surprising, but the words let you know something is up.

"MEET AT YOUR HIVE TONIGHT." It looks like a demand, but Karkat knows it's always iffy when the two of you try to meet up. It all depends on what your father will allow and how he can get out of his hive without getting caught. He also calls your house a "hive" so you remember how ridiculous he thinks human terminology is.

Hm. Tonight isn't a school night. Your dad should be alright with it. "i think it'll be ok." you reply. "dave is moving tomorrow and i'm going to meet up with him to help so you can't stay late."

After giving Jade some details on defeating the boss that slaughtered you a few minutes ago, he asks, "STRIDER IS MOVING?"

"yeah!"

Dave lives in Texas but he's moving to your city this weekend. He couldn't tell you why because he didn't know either: his older brother is so elusive. Thankfully, Dave seems to be cool with moving. Dave is cool about pretty much everything.

"TO D.C.?" Karkat pries further.

"uh huh."

"WONDERFUL." His all-caps text screams sarcasm almost literally. "REMIND ME NOT TO LEAVE THE CLUSTER WHEN HE'S AROUND."

The cluster is where all the troll hives are gathered. In D.C. it just so happens to be near the center of the city, which was debated for a long time by government officials until they decided to let it slide. With necessary security precautions, of course. In your rather simple and conveniently explanatory thoughts, you don't see the message at first when Karkat sends it. "THAT'S RIGHT, YOU'VE NEVER MET HIM FOR REAL. TELL ME IF HE'S AN ASSWIPE IN PERSON TOO."

You laugh a little at that. "if he is, i am so totally making you meet him." you tease. Dave will probably be really awesome and you're looking forward to seeing what the Stiller shades you mailed him look like on his face. You kind of picture a greaser-looking guy minus the cigarette. You are convinced that Dave is John Travolta. Possibly even cooler, like Danny Zuko times ten and with turntables instead of Grease Lightning. Then you realize you fantasize about your friends way too much.

Karkat's "FUCK YOU" makes you chuckle again. The private conversation ends there. The group, now five of you, continues with the quests – which are made more complicated by frequent troll rage fits. After a few hours, Dave has to leave to finish packing. None of you want to leave him in the dust so you decide you'll continue the questing next time he can get online. Karkat doesn't care since he's a higher level but he logs out so he can meet up with you. This is a normal occurrence because apparently Gamzee is becoming difficult to talk to. That makes you a temporary moirail until he "gets his thinkpan straight." Karkat refuses to call it therapy but you think that's totally what it is. He calls the meetings "fruitless feeling jams" instead.

It's about a half hour before an impatient fist slams on the door downstairs. You rush to answer it. On the doorstep is Karkat Vantas, of course. He's a little on the short side and he's kind of gangly, but he stands firm like every other troll you've seen. He's squinting because the sun is just starting to go down and trolls are nocturnal, which means he woke up early today. ...Or tonight. Whatever applies to him. He's glaring at you and complains as usual: "Took you long enough." His voice sounds almost like he's stuck in an eternal growl and it isn't as loud as one would expect because of his quirk, but you've heard him yell before and you know not to underestimate his temper. He slides past you into the house, bumping his shoulder against yours rather aggressively. It took you a while to get used to his mannerisms the first few times you met but now you're accustomed to it and it's just one of those things you have to let go. He stomps around the living room and frowns at all of the jester figurines and whimsical pictures framed on the walls. It's part of his routine every time he visits. After he's finished showing his discontent by scrunching up his small nose, he directs his attention to you.

"Hi, Karkat." you greet him because he hasn't really started a conversation yet. He was the one to request a meeting so you thought he would have been the one to speak first.

"I came all the way here for a 'Hi, Karkat?'" he fumes. "Did you not realize it's only—what, six thirty? I should just be WAKING UP." His tone suddenly becomes more hostile and worthy of his typing style.

Eyebrows knitting together in a mixture of concern and irritation, you put your hands on your hips. "You're the one that wanted to come here," you remind him. "What's bugging you this time? Wait – let's go to my room first. Dad will probably have a fit if you start cursing around him." The troll simply grunts and makes a show of stomping up the stairs to your bedroom and you follow, lagging a second behind to give him some space. He tends to be pretty excessive in his motions when he's angry. You make sure to shut the door behind you for extra security and he only starts to speak again when you turn to look at him.

"What the fuck is wrong with Makara?" he spits, both literally and in a manner of diction. "All of a sudden he's avoiding Trollian like he ACTUALLY has shit to do other than sit around his hive all day drowning in slime and soda. I went to his hive and he told me he was busy. BUSY. WHAT COULD HE POSSIBLY BE BUSY WITH?" By now you know that he won't give you time to reply so all you can do is listen. While he raves, he throws his hands up in the air, out to the side, this way and that. His eyes remain wide open and he hardly blinks – trolls don't seem to blink as much as humans, or at least Karkat doesn't – and while he talks he keeps his lips pulled back to bare his jagged teeth. Sometimes he'll pull at his own hair. It's a wonder he isn't balding.

When he finishes, you can only offer a shrug because you really don't have any answers for him this time. From what you know, Gamzee is the chill troll who doesn't care about anything and is probably completely useless. "Maybe he actually has something to do," you suggest, which earns you the most condescending glower. It almost makes you feel like an idiot but then you remember that you can't take Karkat's words to heart because it's just how he is.

You can't deny that it's odd for Gamzee to actually be occupied by something. Karkat has mentioned it before but now it really seems to be bothering him. Part of it is the usual irrationality that comes with being a Vantas, however you would never turn down a friend in need. Troll moirails are important, right?

"Maybe he's having a hard time, like you," you point out. This impresses him even less and he rolls his huge yellowish-orange eyes.

"Things are bad if Makara has issues," he says. "It's creepy enough when he isn't spewing shit about miracles and deliverance. Something isn't right. It's been a long time since he let me in his hive."

"Maybe you offended him."

Karkat throws his hands in the air again. "As if that's even possible. Everything goes over his head. I will fly off the fucking HANDLE if I actually have to use trigger warnings around him." He shivers at the term – though it's more like a twitch of uncontrollable fury – because he can't stand his keeper. Kankri lives in his hive with him and you aren't sure how but they're kind of related to each other even though trolls don't have siblings. You've never met Kankri; humans don't go in the cluster much, but Karkat describes him as a "loquacious gobshite who can't shut his chute for more than two seconds." You once suggested that Karkat just kick the guy out if he's so troublesome, but he said he can't and he left it at that. It probably has something to do with not having a lusus. (Lusii are freaky white subterranean creatures that raise trolls from birth or something like that, but you've never seen one in real life.) None of the trolls you know have lusii and they each ended up with weird keepers that are like older, weirder versions of them. The formal term for it isn't actually "keeper" because there is no term for it. Trolls don't have relatives or guardians, but the so-called "keepers" are pretty close to that.

The next hour passes with Karkat continuing his infuriated speech about Gamzee. On most points, you agree with him: since they're moirails, Gamzee "avoiding" Karkat is totally uncalled for. You don't think that "strangling him until his ganderbulbs pop out" is a good idea though. At about seven thirty your father announces that dinner is ready. Karkat makes a grunt of disgust – he doesn't care for most human cuisine – and leaves. You can imagine he probably won't go straight home: not after getting so worked up. Kankri would be too difficult for him to deal with. He'll probably try to talk to Gamzee again.

After dinner, you browse through some of those Japanese prank videos on the Internet because they're the best. It gets late without you realizing it and you decide to get ready for bed so you won't be yawning all day tomorrow. Unfortunately, it's difficult to fall asleep. You can't stop wondering what Dave and his brother are like and you just stare at the ceiling for what feels like hours. So much for not being tired tomorrow.


	2. Dave and Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave and John meet for the first time.

Your name is now Dave Strider. A good way to describe you is the epitome of cool. When someone needs the opinion of a chill guy who will give it to them straight, they turn to you. John Egbert holds you in the highest respect. There is rarely a time when you lose your cool, and when you do, no one is around to witness it. You don't think you've ever faltered in front of anyone other than your bro. That's what makes you kind of nervous; though you refuse to show it.

This is just John. There's no way he'll ever think you're any less suave. That's what best friends are for.

Damn, you really just came up with that corny line.

You finished packing yesterday. About ninety percent of the haul consists of your bro's puppets and swords. The turntables were the next priority, then came clothes and all the other stuff. Most of it is packed into a UHAUL that's traveling behind bro's truck. The drive has been silent aside from Bro's occasional commentary on the radio or how every house looks the same. You simply nod in agreement and lean your elbow against the door, staring blankly out the window. You do have to agree that a lot of the buildings are very similar to one another in this suburb. If you passed any of your friends' houses just now, you would never know it.

All of them live in D.C. and it's like a stupid joke that you will too. The ride is taking forever and you hope their places aren't hard to find because you feel like you'll get lost.

Eventually the truck stops in front of a tiny house that actually puts the old apartment to shame despite its size. It's almost an exact copy of the ones next to it – great, you'll end up walking into the wrong house. You wish Bro would have found another apartment so it would at least stand out a little.

It's about one in the afternoon when you both finish moving the first few boxes into the building to make way for the furniture. John sends you a text saying he's on the way and you wish him luck with finding it. Since he wants to help with moving the difficult pieces, Bro tells you to take five. You do just that, claiming a seat on the couch that's still inside the UHAUL. Other than asking for the house number, John's father has no trouble finding the way: after a short text conversation, an ugly beige-colored car pulls up behind the UHAUL. A goofy looking kid with square glasses and a terrible case of buck teeth stares in awe at you and then waves excitedly from the passenger seat. His father waves as well but is clearly more composed than John. A pipe hangs from his mouth and he might be pretty tall judging by how close he is to the car's ceiling. He steps out to talk to your brother while John bolts from the restraint of his seat belt.

You expected his speech to be fast-paced when he calls, "Dave, it's really you!" but it just sounds obnoxious instead, which fits John just as well. He approaches you with his arms out and wraps them around your shoulders before you can react. So you don't react at all. This is too surreal and you're so nervous because John is right here. It's like the computer was your one line of defense, and reality has plowed through it.

"Aw man, are you really too cool for hugs?" he asks, his tone dripping with disappointment. When you only shrug in reply, he says, "I thought you would talk more. You never shut up online. Ha ha! Don't be shy!"

When you take out your phone, his expression shows utter devastation. You feel like an ass for acting like this. If you could, you would reply to him. The two of you stand in silence for a moment while your fingers dance across the touch screen until his phone buzzes. He gives you this incredulous look and you can read the meaning behind it in his eyes: Dave, what do you think you're doing? As if to emphasize how much of a jerk you're being, he reads the text aloud.

"Did you seriously just send me a text that says 'sup?'"

He definitely is not amused. You bet he expected you to say hi and tell him a bunch of insane jokes and probably rap. Instead you have to slap him in the face with the awful truth.

You don't talk.

That's why you've always avoided the group chats and don't even own a headset. Sometimes you wonder what your voice sounds like. Too bad you have to find a way to explain that to John. You doubt he knows sign language, and even if he did, it wouldn't help much – you only know the bare necessities. Communication with Bro is hardly communication at all, which is why you never bothered to learn. Striders take care of themselves, and talk is so cheap that Bro doesn't bother doing it.

You type "sorry im not much of a talker" into a blank text and hold it up for John to read since that's easier than waiting for his cell to receive it. He squints at the message even through his huge glasses, and now he seems worried. His bright sky-blue eyes stare at you and he asks, "Is something wrong?" He's really dense sometimes, damn. Luckily your fingers have memorized the touch screen keyboard on your phone. They move as fast as you imagine your mouth would if sounds could come out of it.

"aside from dead vocal chords or whatever the hell happens when youre mute yeah im peachy"

The message takes a few seconds to sink in completely and John is dumbfounded.

"Dave, you could have told us."

You never told anyone except for Rose because she's the only one that wouldn't flip her shit. This is why you had mixed feelings about meeting John. Not being able to talk is like being a high schooler with no car: it's just wrong and makes you fifty percent less cool. Hopefully you'll at least have the car when you turn sixteen.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, which is a sign that Bro is watching you. Turning towards the house, you find that he and Mr. Egbert are both looking in your direction as if waiting to see how you handle the situation. No doubt Bro already explained everything to John's old man. You kind of wish you had more time to prepare for this.

John has also taken notice of the adults. He looks back and forth from them to you before opening his mouth again. You stare as his lips form every word with ease.

"I should've expected this much mystery from a Strider," he says facetiously and smiles at you in the dorkiest manner you've ever seen. Thank goodness he's trying to make amends. You punch his shoulder lightly as if you've always been really close real-life friends and nod towards the couch you previously sat on. About time you got shit moving again.

As it turns out, John is one of those people that are entertaining to listen to. He has this drawl that makes him emphasize things a lot more than people usually would, and it also makes him sound kind of whiny. Not everything he says is smart, but it holds your interest. He's exactly the same being in flesh as he is in text. It's sort of a blessing how little effort he puts into being a friend. It just happens, and that makes the situation easier to cope with. He tells you about his home life and his hobbies as if this is your first conversation with him and you don't already know it. He tells you about school and the people you should avoid there. During another five minute break he talks about how his dad almost made him get braces, but John liked himself as he was and so he didn't get them and that was it. There's a long explanation of who sits where in the school cafeteria, what the food is like, and in turn why you should probably consider packing your own lunch – then he recalls the lunch his father used to make for him in elementary school.

For some reason, that sends a pang of jealousy through you: not only does John go to "normal" school (as you will, with added complications), but he also has a real relationship with his dad. Your brother is nothing like that. It's always about seeing who can beat the snot out of the other first. John's dad leaves him notes and lets him know what's up.

Several hours later, most of the furniture is moved in and everyone has agreed to call it a day. Bro has chosen to present himself as a classy motherfucker around Mr. Egbert and he brings out apple juice – your apple juice – for everyone. Not that you mind sharing quality aj, it's just that thinking about your upbringing suddenly has you bitter. You sip from the juice box even when it's empty, letting the noise wrap around the four of you on the front stoop.

"So, I heard about the puppets but I didn't know there were actually that many!" John laughs, attempting to lift the exhausted atmosphere. Your brother stares at him and then snickers a little. No one knows what made Bro think it was funny. The puppets are pretty unnecessary even if they are supposedly awesome. You simply nod to indicate that yes, there are tons of them, and a lot more still to be unpacked.

Egbert refuses to let the conversation die. "You'll have to teach me how to use the turntables someday." he adds cheerily. You give him a thumbs up, which – judging by the look on his face – brightens his day. After that, he starts to make horrible imitations of beatboxing, synthesizers, and bass drops. You can't help snickering at John. He isn't embarrassed in the slightest. That's what you admire about him: nothing gets in the way of being himself.

All of the big stuff is moved in and so are the most important belongings, so Mr. Egbert says they should leave. He's also impressed at how much work got done even though John talked almost the whole time about every item. The poor kid is reluctant to leave and he keeps trying to start more conversations, which doesn't work well since neither you nor Bro talk much.

"It was great finally getting to see you!" John says with a bittersweet tone as he opens the passenger door of his dad's dinky car. "This sounds creepy, but I can't stop staring. It's weird to finally be able to match a face with that smooth Pesterchum guy."

You whip out your phone and type "eh I expected as much" and show it to him, earning a punch on the arm that's considerably weaker than the ones you give. Goodbyes are exchanged and you wave as Mr. Egbert drives off. Then it's just you and your brother again. It's kind of like the fun is completely sucked out of your day- then it hits you that you were actually having fun, not just going through the normal bland motions. You have fun when you play online games with your crew, but meeting John in person was like a breath of fresh air. If only you asked to have him spend the night or stay for dinner. The rest of the evening will probably be spent ignoring your brother while he does the same.

Thankfully, a text from Rose gives you something new to focus on. It's a simple "How did it go?" Her timing is spot-on.

"not as rough as i thought," you reply.

"John is a good person. He wouldn't let anything go wrong. Not to mention his abundance of conversation topics makes up for your lack of words."

"real considerate of him aint it"

"I was poking fun, Dave. Though I would say that it's a good thing. He never allows awkward silences."

The conversation is put on hold because Bro says "Back yard" right in your ear even though you thought he went back inside already. You give him one of those looks that says you really don't feel like practicing. As always, it fails. He has this crazy idea in his head that the two of you need to practice swordplay daily and you've never gotten out of it before. You trudge slowly to your room to stall, which irritates him: he has already gotten his katana and when he notices that you're not even in your room yet, he charges at you in the hallway. You have no choice but to haul ass into your room and shut the door. It buys you a whole second to grab one of the swords out of a box that has yet to be unpacked completely, and when you turn around he's already swinging at you. You jump to the side, barely escaping what would have been a nasty cut. In your back pocket, your phone vibrates: probably Rose wondering why you didn't say anything sarcastic yet.

Your room is filled with the clanging of metal on metal as swords meet over and over again. Bro gets you turned around and the fight is guided to the back yard. It's weird having grass to stand on instead of a concrete roof, but in a way it feels more stable. You're able to stay on your feet longer than usual – therefore Bro tries harder to knock you down.

Eventually you're on your back with the heel of his foot crushing your chest. When you try to move, he presses it down harder and leans forward with his arms crossed on his knee. He stares at you with an expression so condescending that it makes you feel like shit whenever he uses it – and he uses it every time he pins you, which is a lot. The brim of his hat blocks out the sun. Even through his shades you can see the disappointment. It turns into a waiting game. For what, you don't know, but even when you lose the staring contest by blinking, he still insists on keeping you trapped. This is what you hate about him; he's never satisfied and he's too unpredictable. Maybe if he told you what you were doing wrong or gave you a hint (or some fucking tips), he wouldn't be so displeased with you all the time. But no, Striders are supposed to keep up and expect everything. You may have a good sense of time, but your actions work faster than your common sense. That's why you always lose and probably why he wants to "train" you like this. Too bad his training methods suck balls.

When you start to feel angry and show it by narrowing your eyes at him, he finally takes a step back and lets you stand. Brushing your shirt off, you keep your eyes glued to him in case he attacks. For now you're safe – he returns to the house and you follow, dropping the sword back into the box when you reach your room. Then you flop on your bed which is barren of sheets and check your phone. Rose has asked what you're up to that could keep you quiet for so long. Then she assures you that was just another passive joke.

"bro" is all you type to her and she understands immediately.

"Even after such an exciting day? His bloodthirst knows no bounds." she says. Then she leaves you alone because you're always too tired after a strife to chat.


	3. Sollux and the Amporas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sollux and Eridan find out Crocker Corp's secret and decide to look for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sollux's lisp is annoying to type. Please tell me if it's hard to understand!

If it were any other troll that had to sit hunched over one of these husktops all day, they wouldn't survive as long as you. You've got a tolerance for being stuck in a chair for hours – sometimes even days. It's not even "tolerance" anymore; it's a talent. Codes and sequences are your thing, and they often come before sleep. You are perfect for this job. Sometimes you almost feel proud of yourself... then you remember where it is you work.

Your name is Sollux Captor, and you are an employee of the Betty Crocker Corporation. The difference between you and most other employees is that you make your living in a subdivision run by trolls. Since they now coexist with humans, many human products have troll variations or parts added to them. Obscenely delicious snacks are no exception. You're on the team that gets all the stuff done to make sure they're satisfying for trolls, too. Job benefits include reduced prices on all products and one of the highest quality computers they have to work with. No one cares that you're only six sweeps old. Tons of trolls your age have jobs, some even in the positions supervised by humans. Life on Earth is a different kind of free-for-all than what you hear about Alternia.

You've been checking codes for nearly twelve hours now and you're not quite tired yet. The troll division "enhances" most of the products before they go on the market, and you're the guy that writes those so-called recipes. Some of them are questionable, but what business doesn't have a few skeletons in their closet?

Eridan Ampora struts by you in the custom made white lab coat he insists on wearing. He must have just arrived, which means it's about seven thirty in the evening and his shift is starting. He's one of the scientists that makes your formulas a reality. The two of you don't get along. You're forced to interact because of your positions.

"Got some new recipes in," you say unenthusiastically. Your lips makes it sound like "Got thome new rethipeeth in" and you can't stand how much it makes you feel like a dork.

"Tell 'em to stop adding sopor slime to everythin'," he gripes. He has that distinct manner of speech that only seadwellers have, but he ruins it by talking like a human nitwit thug.

"You have to admit it'th deliciouth." You put unnecessary emphasis on the "to" because you really like how it sounds.

"More like disgustin'." He goes to a table on the other side of the lab to check one of those questionable experiments. He leans down to examine it, then makes an "ugh" sound. "If nothin' else in here makes me question my morals, it's this test."

It's funny because Eridan barely has morals. He hates anything that doesn't have gills. Glancing at the test, you recognize it immediately as the one that began last week. It's been putting you on edge ever since it began because now the laboratory has been given the task of putting something living in the newest products. You even had to swear to secrecy because of how outlandish this experiment is. Supposedly it's meant to increase a troll's senses tenfold. That is the one skeleton in the closet you wish didn't exist. You don't really care whether or not the trolls are actually trying to become supreme – the humans spread rumors about it – but this experiment seems too risky. The codes barely even made sense. They were just realistic enough to work.

Eridan carries the petri dish to another table – one that's full of Betty Crocker food products – and starts messing with it. He's only completely silent when working. You'll have a few minutes of peace. While you return to your own task, the room is quiet except for the tinkering of lab equipment and the smashing of keyboard keys. For a while you become so entranced in your work that you hardly notice Eridan has been calling your name. On the third time, you look up.

He has taken a step back from the table and is making an odd face at it, like he ate something sour. "This isn't gonna work, Sol," he says flatly, pointing at- holy shit.

Where he previously had the petri dish now lies the mutilated corpse of one of the lab's Earth rats. It's covered in blood and who knows what else, with something crawling out of it. This wasn't a factor of the experiment at all; Eridan must have left out the one thing you specifically told him not to.

"You left out the thopor thlime, didn't you?" you snap. He gives you a conflicted look. There's no point in scolding him yet: you have to clean up this mess. The creature, a tiny white lusus that has taken the form of a centipede, is trying to flee the scene. You stand up and approach the table, pull your red-and-blue glasses off, and put an end to the insect with a psychic blast.

Ampora is pretty worked up over it. He stares at you in awe as you put your glasses back on, and then he demands, "What the hell was that?"

"A mithtake." you answer pointedly. "Wouldn't have happened if you followed my directionth."

"I did. The boss told me to skip a few steps."

That's just wrong. Even if it was the head of the department giving orders, he should know how dangerous this is. He just tried to make Eridan fuse a live lusus with a rat... and it only took a few minutes for it to be slaughtered. For a second, you're just confused. Then you remember that it was done on purpose.

You quickly return to your chair and delete the code you've been perfecting. Then you delete the ones that are already finished. This is just insane. There is no way you're letting the experiment go on. It was iffy enough already. Eridan creeps up behind you and watches.

"That's a great waste o' time," he says.

"Thomeone here hath to be reathonable and I gueth it'th me."

"I'll just tell the boss what went wrong, damn."

"He told you to thcrew it up on purpoth, Eridan," you remind him. "We were about to implant living luthii into food. Then trollth would eat that food and the luthii would be inthide of them. That'th wrong." Maybe the rumors humans spread are true. There's definitely some kind of radical action going on and Eridan doesn't realize this is just as bad for trolls as it is for humans. He remains behind you, processing your words carefully. His eyes shift to the deceased rat and then he says defeatedly, "I can't believe I'm agreein' with you. We're gonna lose our jobs, aren't we?"

You raise an eyebrow at him. "We dithcover an evil plot and you're worried about your job? I thee you've got your prioritieth in line. There are plenty other placeth to work."

"A troll needs income, Sol."

Your flaring aggravation incites the voices of the doomed to grow from hushed whispers to forceful commands. They were kepts mostly in the back of your mind while you worked, but now there's no stopping them since you're aware. You rub your temples and stand up, nearly hitting Eridan with the chair as it rolls back. "I'm not letting thith happen" is your exasperated response. The highblood rushes to his experiments and starts fooling with several of them. You watch him debate something internally as he stares at the deceased rat and the bloody infant lusus. Then he simply turns away and looks inquisitively at you.

"What are we gonna do now?" he asks.

"Rethearch." He looks displeased, but you quickly continue. "Cronuth uthed to work here, remember? Crocker Corp hath alwayth been a little weird. He can tell uth what projecth happened before he left."

"He left 'cause they treated him like shit, Sol, not 'cause o' some absurd evil plan," Eridan points out. He's too stubborn sometimes. You can't stand it and you don't know how Feferi can.

"Jutht thut the hell up and trutht me for once," you retort. After a bitter reply of "Fine," you lead him out of the lab and the two of you make your way towards his hive. It's above water like the dumbass he is, but thankfully that makes it easy for you to get to Cronus. The taxi ride lasts about an hour because of how far it is to the closest seadwelling cluster: it's a deep lake carved by trolls a few miles north of D.C. They provided him with a whole lake and he chose to have his hive built on an outcropping of rocks. Part of the reason you hate him (platonically) is because he's such an idiot. At least the taxi drivers get extra pay for driving this far - the Ampora hive might as well be in the main D.C. cluster since it's technically not even in the seadwelling one.

The cab pulls up about fifty feet from his hive, designed to look like a wrecked ship. The two of you exit the car and you tip the cab driver, asking him to wait, which means you owe him ten extra bucks. What a sourpus.

You follow Ampora into his hive and he leads you up to the deck of the ship, where Cronus stands facing away from the two of you, staring down at the water over the edge. The smell of cigarette smoke hovers around him when you get closer.

"Could you put that disgustin' thing out?" Eridan complains. This makes Cronus turn to look at the two of you, and his royal purple irises focus on you especially. You've never actually met him, so it might be odd to start an interrogation. But this is your only lead so far.

"Nice to see you too, Eri." Cronus coos sarcastically. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it between his thumb and index phalanges as expertly as a human would. His voice is suave, but it irks you more than Eridan's because it sounds almost like troll Sean Connery mixed with the guy from that crappy human musical about the kids who can't get their quadrants straight in high school. (Which describes a lot of human musicals. They're another thing you hate.) Cronus asks, "Who's your friend?"

"Thollux Captor," you reply at the same time that Eridan says, "A coworker." You glance at him and continue. "I heard that you worked with Crocker Corp. And becauthe you left, I'm guething anything we thay here ith confidential and I won't have droneth on my ath later."

Now it's the older Ampora's turn to raise his eyebrows. He seems interested. "Go on," he says.

"They tried to futhe a luthuth with food. I thould've noticed earlier. I think they're trying to do thomething weird to the trollth who buy it."

Cronus stares at you for what feels like an eternity. It freaks you out a little. Finally he says, "I can't believe they're trying it again."


	4. Karkat, and Gamzee Acting Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat wants to know what the hell is wrong with Gamzee, seriously.

The sky is dark. A featherbeast in a nearby tree keeps calling "Who?" and you really wish it would shut up. Warm wind blows past and rustles the leaves of the nearby trees. You've been sitting here for at least an hour, just waiting on the front step of Gamzee's hive. He didn't answer when you first knocked, or when you kicked the door, or even when you started yelling at a window you couldn't really see into. So you've waited. He has to come outside eventually. He's your moirail and you sure as hell aren't going to use John as a substitute forever – he's too smiley and goody-goody.

Trollian hasn't been helpful either. No one knows what to say to you, and anything they do tell you is so utterly stupid that you're running out of ways to say they aren't helping. Not even Terezi has anything clever to suggest. That's how you know shit's serious.

You know he can tolerate his... whatever that Kurloz guy is supposed to be, but the guy really isn't much of a conversation partner. He rubs you the wrong way. You don't like knowing that he's the only one Gamzee is around, even if nothing can happen. Maybe you're overthinking it. From what you've seen, Kurloz is awfully nice; but maybe that's why you don't like him. He's practically a silent John.

In your deep musing you didn't hear the door open. Your blood pusher skips a pulse as none other than Gamzee Makara plops down on the step beside you, smiling like the nutcase he is.

"How long you been out here, Karbro?" he inquires, looking curiously at you.

Something's off. He doesn't look quite as dopey as he usually does. You bare your teeth at him and snap, "Forever. What a shitty excuse for a friend you are."

"Aw, don't be like that." His reply enrages you to a whole new level. He doesn't know how many times you've knocked or messaged him or yelled at his hive. This is you being patient. He's lucky you didn't lose your shit.

"No, don't YOU be like that, bulgesniffer. I've been waiting like this every single day because I thought hey, maybe he just ate himself into a slime coma – but nope, here you are, just as much of an asshole as ever. What the fuck have you been doing all this time?" you demand. There's a drop of liquid on his cheek that must be your saliva from yelling so much. He doesn't notice it.

He scratches at his unruly hair and then stares at his hand, wondering if he messed up his crappy makeup. Then he grins at you again. "I've been all up and learning some great tips, Karbro," he replies, "and it would be so motherfuckin' cool if you joined me."

What the? "I told you not to read those terrible books Nitram sent." you say. "That shit isn't real."

But Gamzee shakes his head. For once, you're the one that's out of it and he understands something you don't.

"Not Fiduspawn, motherfucker. Somethin' much more on top of the scale of important shit that needs to be learned by my best bro." His smile won't go away. Usually it doesn't bother you, but it still seems wrong. Whatever he "learned," it's probably some creepy juggalo nonsense. It's a damn good thing he's finally talking to you, because his mysterious cult blabbering has gotten worse. It's silent now and you think he either spaced out or is awaiting an answer.

"Okay, so what have you been 'learning?'" you ask, getting really impatient. His smile widens, but he shakes his head. "It ain't my job to teach you that, bro. But you can all up and join me, motherfucker."

He waves a hand towards the hive, still smiling like the creep he is and you feel something telling you this is a bad idea. But he's your friend and you can't let whatever this is keep messing with him. You've always seen yourself as a sort of leader, like the glue that keeps everyone together even through all the petty shit. So you stand up and walk into his hive with him. It's littered with sopor pies, horns, and clubs as usual. A lone unicycle rests in the corner of the main room behind a pile of even more horns. Out of the thirty of them you pass on the floor, Gamzee only steps on two of them and he doesn't flip out like he usually does. This was definitely a bad idea and something is wrong. Normally he's all over these things, cursing like a buccaneer and wondering how the "motherfuck" they ended up all over the floor. Today he's aware and while that should be a good thing, it feels ominous.

The walk is quiet and uncomfortable. Gamzee doesn't even stop to make sure you're following him; only when you reach Kurloz's respiteblock does he finally turn to give you a toothy grin. He knocks on the door, his lazy eyes glued to you as he calls, "Broloz, we got plus one motherfucker in need of some sweet educating."

There is no answer. You can't fathom how stupid it is for him to assume he'd get one (verbally, anyway). Gamzee opens the door after a second's waiting.

Kurloz's respiteblock is darker than Gamzee's and there isn't a single horn or pie in sight. He must be the clean type of weirdo. Of all the times you've been to this hive, you've never entered this room. It's very organized – a red crowbar encased in glass on his nightstand by the recuperacoon is the only form of decoration you can see. As you stare curiously at it, the closet door shuts and Kurloz is there smiling at you like you're best buds.

"This is my top compadre, Karbro." Gamzee says, but you already know Kurloz and he already knows you. Gamzee looks at you and gestures to his guardian, adding, "And this is your brand new motherfuckin' master, Karkat."

That sounds a little off. You start to say "What the fuck" and look at Kurloz, hoping he can sign language some sense into your moirail, but the world turns blurry and dark and your auricular sponge clots are filled with a low humming. You can feel your jaw drop into a stupid expression and this is freaky as shit, but then all you want is to listen to that deep echoing voice that's telling you to

[CLEAR YOUR THINKPAN AND PAY SOME ATTENTION, CANTANKEROUS MUTANT FUCKER.]


	5. Rose and Karkat's Delimma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose has a concerning conversation with Karkat and she also goes to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those pesterlogs took me like 50 million tries because I've never formatted them before, oh my god. I hope everyone else is proud of me, 'cause I sure am.

CG: LALONDE.  
CG: ANSWER ME.  
CG: I AM UP TO MY GANDERBULBS IN HOT, STEAMING SHIT AND YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE ONLINE THAT WILL BE MOSTLY SENSIBLE ABOUT IT. SCRATCH THAT, YOU'RE GOING TO SAY SOMETHING ABOUT DEFECATION AND HOW I NEED A HUMAN GRUB DIAPER.  
CG: YOU DO NOT WANT TO SEE ME LOSE MY SHIT. ANSWER ME.

Oh goodness. Karkat is blowing up your Pesterchum and you only saw it just now. Has he run out of tolerance for John?

TT: Calm down, Karkat. I promise not to make a joke about diapers, even if you do sound as if you need one.

“OH YOU BITCH.” pops up on the screen, but the grudge is short-lived. It takes him only five seconds to add, “REALLY THOUGH, THIS IS SERIOUS. IT HAS TO DO WITH GAMZEE. SORT OF.”

“Go on.” You have to catch the bus to school soon, so hopefully this frenzy of his won't last too long. It's about his moirail and you know you can't leave him to his own devices – his friends are probably going to sleep right now.

CG: I WENT TO VISIT GAMZEE A WHILE AGO AND HE ACTUALLY LET ME INTO HIS HIVE.  
CG: LONG STORY SHORT, MOSTLY BECAUSE I CAN'T REMEMBER ANYTHING AFTER GOING INTO HIS CREEPY “KEEPER'S” RESPITEBLOCK AS JOHN WOULD CALL IT, I'VE WOKEN UP IN MY OWN HIVE FEELING LIKE SHIT AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH MY HANDS.  
TT: Care to elaborate?  
CG: THEY'RE COVERED IN BLOOD.  
CG: MINE.  
CG: AND I'M PRETTY SURE THEY WOULD HURT MUCH LESS IF I JUST SLICED THEM OFF.  
TT: Do you believe Gamzee did this?  
CG: HE'S ABOUT AS HARMLESS AS NITRAM.

There's a pause before he sends the next message – he might be doubting himself. You've tried your best to understand the importance of this race's quadrant system, and from what you've been told, moirails are very important; possibly the most important of the four quadrants. Not being available to communicate is not only bad for Gamzee: it hurts Karkat just as much. But you doubt bleeding hands are a common side effect.

CG: GAMZEE DIDN'T DO THIS. HE WOULDN'T. HE WAS ACTING WEIRD BUT HE'S FINE.  
CG: FUCK, I CAN'T TYPE ANYMORE. I'M GOING TO GO DROWN MYSELF IN SOPOR. GO DO YOUR SCHOOLFEEDING THING.  
TT: Get well, Karkat. I know you don't want to ignore him, but maybe you should stay away from Gamzee for a while. If you absolutely need to talk to him, use Trollian.  
TT: I'll check up on you this evening.  
\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 7:46--

If only you could have asked about his wounds more. “Covered in blood” could mean so many different things, given the situation. Gamzee always gave you a bad feeling – earlier it was just because of his substance abuse, but now it feels different. You no longer trust the Makaras. 

The bus ride to school is uneventful: you read as you always do while the surrounding kids argue about rumors (some of which you take the time to correct) or giggle about romance and celebrities. The bus comes to a stop in front of the southern D.C. high school. Children crowd inside and you follow the traffic until you reach your locker, where everyone is already waiting for you. This includes Dave, whom you've never seen before but definitely looks like the coolkid he so desperately tries to be online. He's watching John and Jade as they talk excitedly. John looks at you with an ecstatic smile and says, “Rose! This is Dave. The real Dave Strider!” 

Then he looks troubled. He doesn't know that you're already aware of the communication barriers. 

“It's wonderful to finally meet you, Dave,” you greet. He waved at you like he's too cool to give an answer. “May I see your schedule?” 

He pulls a folded paper from his pocket and shows it to you. You're trying to handle this delicately – only making sentences to which he can respond without having to pull out his phone or write in the notebook he has under one arm. Poor kid. It's a wonder the schoolboard let him enroll. 

It's in first period that Jade tells you Dave's delimma. Her hands are folded in her lap and she's looking sadly at you while the teacher talks at the front of the room. 

“He can't say anything. He doesn't even know very much sign language, Rose. Isn't it terrible? Please don't tell me he thinks he's too 'awesome' for sign language.” 

“That's precisely it,” you whisper. The teacher glances at you but says nothing. “He and his brother are complicated. A family with no parental guidance will always have difficulties. He was brave to come to a public school.” 

“It's so hard to think of things to say to him. I don't want to offend him.” 

“He'll be fine, Jade. If he needs to tell us something, he'll write. The worst thing we could do it act like he's incapable. He's missing a voice, not part of his mind. Treat him like you would me or John.” 

“Okay...” she sighs. 

After school you mention the sign language club to Dave before you catch the bus. You also mention that you would gladly attend if he's interested – hopefully he is. He could use a new way to get his irony across without taking so long to scribble it down, and it would reduce the overall discomfort among your group of friends. 

When you arrive at home, your mother gives you a one-armed hug as she cradles a martini glass in the opposite hand. She asks you about school and then leaves the room when she realizes the only answer you're going to give is “Fine.” Since it's still light outside, chances are Karkat is still asleep. Occupying your time today will be an early start on homework followed by an intense reading of wizarding tomes. You've become quite absorbed in a subsection on witchcraft trials when Pesterchum alerts go off on your computer: you begrudgingly slide off your bed and bookmark the page. Dave has left you two simple messages. 

TG: first asl meeting next monday  
TG: see you there

Good. Something told you Dave wouldn't be the type to struggle through his social life using only a notebook and pen, no matter how mysterious it made him. Thank goodness he has you for guidance. Not too long after this, Karkat's trolltag lights up and you immediately take it upon yourself to message him. 

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 18:09--  
TT: Faring well? I would assume your hands are better since you're online.  
CG: THEY LOOK A LITTLE LESS LIKE SOMETHING THE FERAL MEOWBEAST DRAGGED IN IF THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE WONDERING. STILL STINGS LIKE A BITCH, BUT I'M SURVIVING.  
TT: Glad to hear it.  
CG: DAMN IT, LALONDE.  
TT: Really, I'm relieved you're okay. I'm still worried about your visit to the Makara hive however, and I can't imagine how it happened. It seems that those two are oblivious to their own subjugglating lineage and being in a quadrant with you would undoubtedly subdue any ill will toward you from Gamzee. Do you think his keeper is responsible?  
CG: GEE, I DON'T KNOW. I ONLY LOST MY MEMORY FROM THE TIME I WAS NEAR HIS RESPITEBLOCK TO THE NEXT FUCKING MORNING. COULDN'T BE HIM.  
TT: So your suspicion is confirmed.  
CG: IT'S LOOKING THAT WAY. THE SOPOR COULDN'T EVEN KEEP HIS FACE OUT OF MY DREAMS. HE'S LIKE A PARASITE.  
TT: I may not be very knowledgeable of sopor slime's effects, but that sounds like a red flag. How were your hands injured?  
CG: I TOLD YOU I DON'T KNOW.  
TT: I mean you should describe it.  
CG: OH. YEAH.  
CG: THEY WERE REALLY BLOODY. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE IT.  
TT: Well, did you rinse the blood off? Was there any unusual coloration? Cuts or bruises? Missing appendages?  
CG: ...COLORATION.  
TT: The lack of specification worries me. Just how badly have you been mangled?  
CG: NO, I'M FINE. JUST MY HANDS. THEY WERE

There is a long pause. He's being dodgy.

CG: I CAN'T TELL YOU. THE REMARKABLY AWKWARD ATTEMPTS TO HELP ME HAVE BEEN SPLENDID, LALONDE, BUT I CAN'T. I HAVE TO GO.  
TT: Karkat, wait.  
\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling tentacleTherapist [TT] at 18:34--

Too late. He's already offline. Something is terribly wrong – Karkat isn't telling the whole story. Unfortunately, the only one who can really get him to talk is John; they seem to get alone well and their conversations on the MMORPGs you all play lead you to believe that John is truly able to influence him. You've been suspicious that it takes a toll on John, however, because he's so optimistic and dealing with someone like Karkat must be difficult. You hate to shove something else on his shoulders, but it's for the best.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 18:35--  
TT: Karkat is hurt and refuses to cooperate.  
EB: oh no! what's going on? he didn't tell me anything.  
EB: wait, um. he's texting me instead.

A good fifteen minutes pass and you've turned to your book again while you wait. Then Pesterchum rings with a new message.

EB: he told me about it but why isn't he online?  
TT: To avoid my questioning, presumably.  
EB: oh. i guess that makes sense.  
EB: haha, he says that he knew you would tell me about it.  
TT: Has he told you anything about his wounds?  
EB: ok this is really rude of me and i'm so sorry, but he says to keep it secret.  
TT: Wonderful.  
EB: but he's doing fine. apparently kankri is taking care of him. ...and is going to settle it.  
TT: That's a bad thing, I suppose?  
EG: karkat's not happy about it.  
TT: Well, I do hope your attempts to comfort him go further than mine. Message me if my assistance is ever needed.  
EB: sure thing. sorry again rose. this is weird stuff.  
\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 18:40--

You've always been so good at helping Dave. This is a strange feeling, being unnecessary. It's probably better that John handles this since he has experience... or something like that. Hopefully everything sorts out. A contradictory nagging thought is telling you to stay on high alert. One thing is for sure: the Makaras are not to be trusted.


	6. Jade and Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Jade have bullshit empathic powers?  
> (Also I'm sorry about all the Pesterlogs. I got excited because I learned how to format them. I promise they won't take over the story.)

On the bed is a gathering of soft stuffed animals that provide minimal comfort and no reassurance. No amount of cute posters featuring sparkly-eyed marine life can guard you from the things you see. Once upon a time, sleep was a thing you enjoyed: you would cuddle with those stuffed animals and smile at the Squiddle posters until consciousness was swept away by the prince of dreamland. You could feel the warm sun that your mind produced in its comatose state and you could smell the daffodils and tulips and buttercups. There would be tea parties with stout little people on a table forged entirely of gold with you in the seat of honor. Those dreams have become a thing of the past but you cling to those memories because it’s your lifeline, the only thing keeping you sane anymore. Lately you have been scared to death of sleep; the times that your body starts to feel weak and your legs slowly give out from under you are the times that you pray this is the kind of sleep you won’t wake up from. Maybe this dream will be one that lasts for eternity, where you’ll drink tea again and wait for your friends to join you after their lives are complete. That wishful thinking is always crushed.

It’s crushed under images like you’ve never seen before - visions of violence, blood, faces that feel familiar twisted in agony while you’re forced to watch because there’s nothing you can do, you’re just a lonely spectre in a chaos of black nothingness speckled with stars. Sometimes they swirl and turn into ghastly green spirals that confuse you. Your name is Jade Harley and you are sweaty-palm, shaky-knees, heart-racing, lump-in-throat terrified of space.

Space is where all the darkness and horrible things happen and you will have none of it between you and the stuffed lion-man that you’re clutching so hard to your chest. You’ve told your friends about these nightmares but you don’t think they understand just how nightmarish they really are. At school you try to act natural by smiling and showing only the least bit of concern, but when you get home and your meds start to wear off, you do as many happy things as you possibly can before the darkness overtakes you. The lion-man’s beady eyes smile up at you. It’s eight o’clock, which is usually when the narcolepsy tries to strike. You always make sure you’re on your bed at this time just in case it hits suddenly and you’ll have a safe landing, because nowadays instead of coming slowly, it barges into your head without warning. You’ve grown to hate this bed.

The anticipation is eating you alive, but your eyes don’t feel droopy. Something in this room has to keep you content if only for a minute. The lunchbox themed laptop at the foot of the bed looks promising. Maybe someone is online? You reach for it with newfound hope-- Dave and John are almost always online. They can distract you.

With the lunchtop seated comfortably in your lap, you open Pesterchum and find that the friends available are John, Rose, Dave, and it looks like some of the trolls are starting to log on as well. No sign of Karkat. He’s been more snippy than usual lately and you don’t want to force your own issues on him while he’s having such a hard time anyway.

\--gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 20:01--  
GG: hey there dave!  
TG: hey harley hows it kicking  
GG: fine. just bored  
GG: it was so cool seeing you in school today  
GG: i don’t care how much swag you think you have, you’re adorable!  
TG: jade no  
TG: swag and adorable must never be in the same sentence its like a crime  
TG: i dont want to call the cops on you because youre my friend and all but you cant be saying things like that  
TG: just keep your head down and dont say anything and i think we can let it slide  
GG: thank goodness i'm too young for jail!!  
GG: do you like school so far?  
TG: its alright yeah  
TG: actually i was going to talk to you about something  
TG: me and rose are going to that asl club and i was thinking hey why not invite everyone  
TG: im talking to john about it and i think hes going too  
GG: it sounds fun! i was hoping you would go actually. it just seems easier.  
TG: yeah  
TG: cant be texting forever  
GG: i didn't know what to do actually  
GG: i didn't want to be rude by ignoring you but i don't have a lot of experience with... this  
GG: so i'm really sorry for being weird!  
TG: i dont blame you shits kind of difficult  
GG: can i ask why you never learned it before?  
TG: dont know  
TG: a strider thing probably  
GG: haha, dummy.  
GG: there's nothing uncool about it  
GG: in fact it's really cool!  
GG: i'm excited now!  
TG: everyone watch out jades got a head full of hype and feet full of happy  
TG: gonna tap dance her way into the room and sign the fuck out of some language  
TG: whoops its time for dinner  
TG: ill be back later  
GG: dave wait  
TG: sup  
GG: um  
GG: does your bro cook a lot?  
TG: simple shit why  
GG: i could bring some veggies and stuff from the garden  
TG: sounds cool  
TG: but tonight were living off of cheap spaghetti  
TG: im starving so brb  
GG: ooh i have tomatoes! fresh sauce.

Dave must have left his computer already because he doesn't reply. You were trying to keep him at his desk to stall from sleep more, but to no avail. You are left alone in your room, the Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff poster from Dave mocking you with their wide smiles. Thankfully there are more people to talk to. Rose might even be able to calm you down - she’s good at applying logic to things. Sometimes you feel like you might overwhelm her with your whining so you try not to bother her too much.

\--gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 20:05--  
GG: so i hear that dave is joining the sign language club!  
TT: Oh yes, he told me earlier. I’m glad.  
GG: me too  
GG: i think it’ll be fun  
TT: It will definitely be interesting. I was always interested in learning it but now I have a reason to apply myself. It’ll be beneficial for all of us.  
GG: yeah!  
GG: hey rose?  
GG: i actually wanted to talk to you about something  
GG: you know how i used to tell you about those nightmares i had?  
TT: Yes. Have they gotten worse?  
GG: ...a lot  
GG: at first they were only about us. but now there are more people in them, like ones that i don’t even know  
GG: and they keep getting more confusing and creepy  
GG: i thought maybe my medicine was doing it but if that was the case it wouldn’t get worse right?  
TT: I would assume so. There’s definitely a problem if they’re getting worse, Jade. Perhaps you should see a doctor about it. A weaker medicine might be in order. Of course, I’m no doctor.  
TT: But I hate to hear that you’re still having trouble with this. What does your grandfather think?  
GG: he’s worried  
GG: we don’t know what to do. weaker medicine might not hold me over all day unless i took it during school too  
GG: i mean i’m definitely willing to try it!! anything to make this stop.  
TT: It couldn’t hurt. Please know that you can always talk to me, by the way. I’d rather you not keep things like this to yourself. Especially if it’s been getting worse.  
GG: okay :(  
GG: thanks rose  
TT: Try a relaxing bedtime ritual. Calm background music maybe. I’ll try researching this some.  
GG: i will! talk to you later!  
TT: Sleep well.  
\--gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 20:09--

Even if she can’t do anything right this moment, Rose is always helpful. She reminds you of a mother-- not the kind of mother she has, but more of a mother bear, always doing what she can to assist her family.

You think about talking to John too, but suddenly your eyes feel droopy and panic surges through you. You lay the lunchtop carefully at the foot of your bed, too scared to waste time trying Rose’s music idea, and curl up under the blankets with your stuffed animals. Their smiling faces remind you of your friends and how happy you all were together at school. Pulling them closer, you bury your face in their fake fur and hold them tight. Moments pass and you drift further away from reality: your bedroom door opens and Grandpa walks in to check on you. He sits on the edge of your bed and you can feel his spectacled eyes staring at you for a moment before he turns his head toward your laptop. It used to bother you that he would look at your stuff, but this situation has occurred so many times that you don’t care anymore. It was how he first found out about the nightmares. You can tell he’s trying to act like he isn’t reading part of your conversation with Rose. He picks up the computer and plugs it into the charger in the wall, then classical music starts playing from it and he sets it on the floor by your bed. A small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth because well, maybe it’s a good thing that Grandpa looks at your stuff sometimes. He leans over and his moustache hairs brush against your forehead when he plants a kiss there. Then Bec trots into the room and leaps up onto your bed, laying against your backside. Your eyes are closed by the time Grandpa stands up and suddenly you’re entrenched in darkness.

This dream is short and features more people you don’t immediately recognize. There are trolls - their skin is gray and they have bright horns. You’ve seen them walking outside at night sometimes when you look out your window, but you’ve never been close to one. The ones in your dream are vivid and wild-looking. The first one is tall and looks almost literally like a skeleton, with white face paint, crazy hair, and purple shorts that would make you uncomfortable if you weren’t distracted by how sinister his facial expression looks. The aura around him flashes magenta and indigo.

And then there’s a smaller troll standing in front of him, hunched over and gripping its head in agony, with horns that are tiny and dull. You can almost feel your heart skip a beat and your own voice yells “Karkat!” at you, but you’ve never seen Karkat before. Is this really him? You have to help him. You have to stop the skeleton troll. Maybe if you reach out, you can just...

Bright red liquid pours over your vision. When it clears, you’re in complete blackness and there isn’t a single star in sight this time. Your hands feel wet. Looking at them, they start to shake because they’re covered in red, and you immediately recognize it as blood. It isn’t yours.

You awake with an alarmed gasp and Bec jumps to life beside you, his ears perked up and his head tilted. Though you’re already out of the dream, the image is still branded on your mind and you can’t help shouting Karkat’s name as if he could hear you, come to you and tell you he’s okay.

Reaching for the lunchtop with quivering hands, you check the time. It’s five in the morning. There’s a chance that he’s still awake. Pesterchum doesn’t open fast enough and you tap your fingers impatiently as it starts up, then you select Karkat’s handle because thank goodness, he is online.

\--gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 5:20--  
GG: karkat!!  
CG: WHY ARE YOU UP SO EARLY. IT’S SATURDAY.  
GG: i had to check on you  
GG: there was this skeleton guy and you were hurt!  
CG: GODDAMN IT, DID JOHN TALK TO YOU? I TOLD HIM TO KEEP HIS FUCKING PROTEIN CHUTE SHUT.  
CG: FIGURES HE WOULD TELL ALL HIS LITTLE BUDDIES.  
CG: I JUST CAN’T HAVE SOME FUCKING PRIVACY.  
GG: you really are hurt??  
GG: what happened? are you going to be okay?  
CG: IT HURTS LESS THAN BEFORE BUT NOT BY MUCH. WHAT EXACTLY DID JOHN TELL YOU?  
GG: oh, john didn't tell me anything... i had a dream. you were hurt by some skeleton troll guy and you were bleeding  
GG: i had to make sure you were safe even though it was just a dream!!  
GG: but now i find out that it actually happened? this is terrible!!!  
CG: I WAS BLEEDING? YOU SAW IT?  
GG: well yeah i just said that  
CG: ...OH.  
CG: DO ME A FAVOR  
CG: DON'T TELL ANYONE ABOUT IT. EVER.  
CG: EVEN IF YOU HAVE TO TALK ABOUT YOUR DREAM, DON'T TELL THEM ABOUT... ME.  
GG: um okay  
GG: i won't?  
GG: i mean i think you're pretty skinny even for a troll and john says so too, but it's not like anyone will make fun of you for it  
CG: NOT MY APPEARANCE. I'M TALKING ABOUT THE BLOOD.  
GG: you shouldn't keep this a secret. this is serious stuff! if that guy hurt you, you need to find help.  
CG: NO YOU DUMBASS, THE BLOOD. DON'T TELL PEOPLE ABOUT MY BLOOD. IN CASE YOU DIDN'T NOTICE, IT'S A BLINDING SHADE OF RED.  
CG: THAT MEANS IF ANYONE FINDS OUT, I’LL BE CULLED.  
GG: oh! that’s... awful  
GG: i promise i won’t tell a soul.  
GG: i’m kind of freaking out though  
GG: my dream came true. do you know how scary this is?  
CG: IT CAME TRUE LIKE A DAY AGO. I TOLD YOU I’M GETTING BETTER. DON’T SOME HUMANS CLAIM TO HAVE SOME KIND OF STRONG BULLSHIT EMPATHIC POWERS? BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT THIS SOUNDS LIKE.  
CG: ALL THAT HAPPENED WAS THAT MY HANDS WERE HURT. EVERYTHING ELSE IS FINE.  
CG: ASIDE FROM GAMZEE AND HIS KEEPER BEING CREEPY AS FUCK THAT IS  
CG: LIKE SERIOUSLY, WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE GUY?  
GG: i wish i knew!  
GG: but i also see a lot of stuff in my dreams that i don’t think has ever happened  
GG: i see people that i don’t even know  
GG: and a lot of people dying...  
CG: SOUNDS LIKE SOMEONE COULD USE SOME SOPOR.  
GG: i wonder if that would work  
CG: THAT WAS ME BEING WITTY. YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO CONSIDER IT.  
GG: hey, it makes you sleep better! why couldn’t it work for me?  
CG: IT COULD BE POISONOUS TO HUMANS FOR ALL YOU KNOW. I’M NOT GOING TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR DEATH BY APPROVING OF THIS IDEA. I’M NOT GIVING YOU ANY SOPOR.  
CG: AND NO ONE ELSE WILL EITHER.  
CG: STICK TO YOUR HUMAN DRUGS, HARLEY.  
GG: fine! ugh  
GG: i’m going to walk bec or something.  
GG: at least consider it! i’m too scared to sleep anymore  
CG: NOPE, IT’S A TERRIBLE IDEA.  
\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 5:29--

It seems that Karkat is still pissier than usual. You feel bad for him, but at the same time you do wish he would try to calm down a little. You think the sopor was a great idea. There’s a chance it could be harmful, but at this point you’re kind of desperate. If only you had a way of obtaining it.

For now you decide to clear your mind. First you go downstairs with Bec trailing behind you to take your medicine and get something for breakfast, then you take Bec out for an early morning walk.


End file.
